Knights of the Platinum Dragon: A D&D Story

Chapter 2: Room and Board

It was coming towards sunset when the Cockatrice Inn finally rose into view from around the final bend in the river – a three-story building of white stone, cracked but still solid, resting on the water's edge and surrounded by wooden walkways, railings and stairwells. They hugged the structure's exterior, connecting all the doors to the rooms on the top floor, the main entrance on the second floor, and the jetty protruding out into the river on the bottom floor.

Said jetty led through an open entryway under the building, wide enough for two barges and tall enough for a minotaur to walk under, and Logan could guess from the barrels and crates he could see inside through the fading light that that was the inn's storeroom. Shuttered windows could be seen on every level, all pulled closed as the dark of evening began to creep in and to keep out biting insects from the river. Not far north from the inn, hills began to loom up again that slowly grew into mountains the further you went, with a wide dirt road snaking between them to form a mountain pass.

Edwyn slowly steered his barge until it came to rest along the jetty, and as Logan gathered his things, he said "Many thanks, Sir Logan."
Stepping onto the jetty, Logan turned to him, his pack slung over his right shoulder. "What for, Master Butterbeer? I didn't do anything of note."

"I beg to differ!" Edwyn scoffed in response. "Ye agreed to ride with me, paid me full price when I offered half, and gave me some piece of mind." As he spoke, the halfling pulled off his straw hat and fanned his face as sweat beaded on his brow. "That's worth a thanks, wouldn't ye say?"

Logan looked pensive before replying "I suppose..." while trying his best to be modest. He then asked "Is there anything else we can do? Help you get the barge inside, perhaps?" He was mindful of the sweat on Edwyn's face, glistening under the purple and orange sky.

"Nah, ye needn't worry yerselves!" Edwyn replied, giving as dismissive wave. "I've been doing this for thirty years – it's my job!"

There was a stubborn pride in his voice that Logan couldn't help but admire, and a smile crossed his face while Ren climbed from the barge as well and said "Thank you, Mr Butterbeer..." The elf then looked around before asking "Pardon the question, but where do we go from here?"

Edwyn turned to him and said "It'll be Elsa ye want. She's the innkeep, and my employer. Most like, she'll be on the second floor at this hour, in the common room."

Committing that to memory, Logan nodded, gave Edwyn one final thanks for the lift which the halfling brushed off as 'nothing', then he turned to walk up the jetty to the foot of the inn, where he climbed up a wooden stairwell.

As he climbed, Logan saw Ren's shadow behind him, but if not for that, he wouldn't have known the elf was following him – Ren's footsteps were all but silent, especially when compared to the rattling of Logan's half-plate and the creaking of the planks under his weight. As they trudged upwards, Logan heard the whine of mosquitos too, and slapped at his neck when he felt a tickling sensation land upon it.

The pair then came to the one door in this place that was built over earthen ground – the one on the second floor. Not far from the Cockatrice was a basic thatch-roofed stable that was overflowing with horse-drawn carriages, and the swinging sign that creaked above them in the breeze depicted the head of the inn's namesake beast, its barbed feathers bristling while its hooked beak was pulled back into a snarl.

In the corner of his eye, Logan saw Ren shudder as he looked up at the sign – an action which made him raise an eyebrow.
"Cold?" Logan asked.
Ren looked at him and shook his head. "Nervous."

Logan chuckled. "There's nothing to be nervous about – just another roadside inn. Or riverside, in this case," he said. He was starting to get the feeling that Ren was one of those perpetually jumpy and anxious types, but he didn't think so unkindly. Life on the road was dangerous, and it could certainly be nerve-wracking. He had grown used to it over the years, and as ever with elves, it was impossible to tell how old they were – Ren had the large eyes, soft features and youthful innocence of a teenage boy, but for all Logan knew, he could be fifty or even a hundred.